


Meanwhile In Purgatory

by Gryph



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_reversebang, Inspired by Art, M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryph/pseuds/Gryph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Dean are stuck in Purgatory. Even as they try to reconnect with each other, they almost never get a moment to themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meanwhile In Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 [Spn_Reversebang](http://spn_reversebang.livejournal.com) Collection. Prompted by this fabulous [art](http://muse-of-melissa.livejournal.com/12679.html) by [muse_of_melissa](http://muse_of_melissa.livejournal.com). She was a joy to work with, and I hope the story does justice to her vision.
> 
> Lyrics are from _For You I'll Die_ by Marion Raven

  
art by [muse_of_melissa](http://muse_of_melissa.livejournal.com)

 

_But what am I supposed to do_   
_When all hope is gone?_   
_How am I supposed to leave you_   
_When you're the only one?_

* * *

Dean yanked on the hilt of the knife, trying to dislodge the blade from the creature he had just killed. The thing had spikes protruding from every joint, each of which looked long and sharp enough to puncture all the way to his lungs.

“Cas!” Dean yelled. Castiel had been fine a few minutes ago; the trip to Purgatory had purged Lucifer from his psyche. But every time they got into knock-down, drag-out with any of the local denizens, the angel regressed, screaming about nonsense, curling in on himself like he was in pain.

“Bees, I just want to watch the bees!” Castiel keened from where he crouched a few feet away, his arms wrapped around his knees as he rocked back and forth. Dean could hear growling in the shadows that surrounded them. Pairs of red eyes glowed between the trees, far too many of them. If he couldn’t snap Castiel out of his fugue soon, they were finished.

Blood dripped down his hand from a slash across his forearm and mixed with the blood already on the knife. The handle turned in his grip as he pulled hard again, but the blade finally slid free.

“Cas! Could really use your help here!”

They’d been in Purgatory for about a week at Dean’s best guesstimate. Or it could have been a couple of months. There was no sun, just a lightening and darkening of the gray miasma that surrounded everything, but not regular enough to be construed as day and night. Dean tried to keep track of days by when he slept, but much of the time, a quick rest here and there between encounters with monsters was all he could spare, especially since Castiel still refused to lift a hand in a fight.

And there were monsters everywhere.

Dean backed up so that he was closer to Castiel. After a quick check that the creatures were still cowed by the death of one of their own, Dean knelt in front of the whimpering angel. Castiel still wore the scrubs from the hospital under his familiar khaki trenchcoat. Both their clothes were smeared with mud and blood—only a little of it their own—between the rips and slashes.

Dean grabbed Castiel by the shoulders and shook him.

“Cas! C’mon man, I need you! Make some angel mojo here.”

“No, no, no, no.” The denial poured out of Castiel. “I told you, I can’t fight. Not here. Not again.”

Dean nervously glanced over Castiel’s head, then twisted to scan the trees behind him. One by one, the pairs of glowing eyes were winking out, and he could just barely sense the slinking retreat of the creatures.

He had a momentary flash of grandeur that he had somehow frightened away their foes by killing one of their kind. Then he realized that only one thing would run them off—something bigger and badder than they were.

A roar split the air, a deep, throaty sound that reverberated off the treetops and seemed to come from everywhere at once. _Whatever made that noise was big_ , Dean though. _Like Jurassic big. Like grown in the middle of a radioactive test site big._

Oh, they were so very fucked.

He practically lifted Castiel to his feet. “We gotta go. We gotta run. Now!” He grabbed the angel’s hand in an iron grip and tugged him out of the clearing. At least Castiel’s feet were moving, and Dean was able to coax him faster as an itch developed between his shoulder blades. Any second, he expected something from his nightmares to reach out and snag the back of his jacket, to pull him to his death. Or worse. He’d been to hell. He knew that there were things worse than death.

They ran through the grayness, dodging trees that seemed to spring up fully formed in front of them. Dean still held onto Castiel’s wrist, afraid that if he let go, the angel would stop where he was and wait to be ripped apart. In the gloom that closed in around them, Dean’s panting from the exertion was flat and harsh, as if no sound could penetrate the thick air.

Suddenly, a darker gray wall loomed in front of them, and Dean just barely pulled them back from running headlong into a stone cliff. Castiel paused for a moment, craning his neck to look up the sheer cliff face. Dean turned to run parallel to it and hauled the angel along.

He felt a tremor echo through the ground beneath his feet as if something large and heavy impacted nearby. He put his head down and tried to draw more speed out of his companion.

Ahead, he could see a break in the rock face, a narrow opening. If it was wide and deep enough for them to wiggle into, they might have a chance. Dean skidded to a stop when they reached the fissure, which he could just squeeze into if he turned sideways. The crack disappeared into the darkness.

Dean tucked the knife in his belt and quickly fumbled his lighter out of his jacket pocket. He hated relinquishing the weapon but felt like he didn’t dare let go of Castiel. When he flicked open the lighter, the orange flame flared to life, but its weak light only revealed that the crevice continued deeper into the rock. He began shuffling through it, his hand never leaving Castiel’s wrist.

After a few more yards, the narrow fissure opened into a cavern about the size of Bobby’s living room. A smattering of rock outcroppings rose from the dirt floor, and the walls curved inward above their heads. But there was enough room to stand. Dean paced around the perimeter, checking to make sure there were no other entrances for a creature to drop in on them unexpectedly. Near the back, he felt a slight breeze stir his hair. Looking up, he saw a narrow crack in the ceiling. When he lifted his lighter toward it, the flame flickered, and he pulled it back quickly before it could be extinguished. The natural chimney meant they could build a fire.

Dean continued a circuit of the space and was almost back to where Castiel waited when his foot tangled in a pile of debris on the floor. He backed up half a step and squatted, bringing the meager light closer. A pile of bones, some of them held together with rotten clothing, lay in a scatter of sticks and branches. Dean picked up what looked like an arm bone and noticed the gouges along its length, closely spaced together and grouped in semicircles. _Something_ had been using this cave as a lair. He dropped the bone and began to gather up the fabric and wood.

He built the fire near the entrance to the fissure, running through the list in his head of monsters that were afraid of fire. Not a huge list, but every little bit of protection helped. As soon as he had a decent blaze going, Dean stood and rounded on Castiel, who was still rooted, statue-like in the center where Dean had let go of his hand. The hunter stepped close enough that their noses almost touched. “I needed your help out there, Cas. What happened?”

Castiel looked slightly surprised at the invasion of his personal space; after all, Dean was the one who’d taught him not to stand too close. Or at least had _tried_ to teach him. “I told you, I won’t fight anymore. Especially not here.”

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he pointed toward the cave entrance as his voice rose in volume, “everything else here seems fine and dandy with the idea of fighting _us_!”

“Dean, those are _souls_ you are killing out there.” Castiel’s tone remained quiet and measured, which only pissed Dean off even more.

“Yeah, _Purgatory_ souls. Not exactly what ya’d call lily white innocents!”

“Maybe not, but they also aren’t damned. This isn’t hell.”

Dean recoiled like he’d been slapped in the face. “What’s that supposed to mean, Cas?” The muscle on the side of his jaw jumped and bunched. “You can take the Righteous Man out of Hell, but you can’t take Hell out of him?”

“I...,” Castiel began, then sighed with an abashed look. “I just meant that the souls here don’t deserve to be—”

“Tortured?” Dean spat the word. He shook his head. “That’s what you were thinking, even if you don’t have the balls to say it to my face.” He turned away from the angel, took a few steps away and whirled around again. “These _things_ are monsters! They’d just as soon eat folk as look at them. Doesn’t make them Sister Mary Sunshine. Or did you forget that Dick and his big-mouths are recent ex-pats from this place before they settled in topside like Homer Simpson at an Old Country Buffet?” He snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah, and who did we have to thank for that little exodus, by the way?”

Castiel’s face shuttered over, and he pushed past Dean toward the opening to the fissure. Dean winced and swore under his breath. Why did he always seem to say the wrong thing with Castiel?

He darted behind the angel and grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. “Cas,” he began, his voice full of regret. “Look. you can’t go back out there. Godzilla could still be waiting out there for all we know.”

“It’s not Godzilla.” It was said so quietly, Dean almost didn’t hear him.

“Wait. You know what that thing is?”

“Yes.” Castiel looked pained over the words he spoke next. “All monsters have an Alpha, the one who came first.”

“Yeah I know—”

“No! You don’t understand! Eve created all the Alphas. Except one. The one that predates even her, the one for whom Purgatory was originally created as a prison. The only Alpha that was made by God.”

Dean’s throat dried up, and his stomach was quickly migrating toward his feet.

“That’s the Alpha Leviathan, Dean.” Castiel’s gaze dropped, no longer able to look Dean in the face. “And it knows me now. My grace is like a beacon in the night to it.” Castiel took a deep breath and finally raised his eyes to stare into Dean’s. “It would be better for you if I leave. I can lead the Alpha Leviathan off, and you can escape.”

Tightening his grip on Castiel’s arm, Dean shook his head in one quick, sharp jerk. “No,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “No, we stick together.” His gut twisted at the thought of losing Castiel again. Too many times, he’d watched the angel sacrifice himself to save Sam and Dean. To save Sam for Dean. To save Dean.

_I’ll hold them off. I’ll hold them all off!_

_I fell for you. I did it all for you!_

And now that he had Castiel back, he wasn’t sure he could survive losing him again.

“Look, this place ain’t exactly the Hilton, but we can stay here a long time, wait it out.”

“Wait for what? That creature isn’t going to leave me alone. It’s only a matter of time before it summons minions to send in here to do what it can’t. The monsters will come, Dean.” Castiel clenched his fists, his entire posture tense and aggressive, as if he expected at any moment that hordes of monsters were going to swarm into their safe haven. “They’ll come, and we’ll be trapped.”

Dean frowned. “This place is pretty defensible. They can’t come in more than one at a time; they’ll bottleneck in the entrance, and we can gank ‘em as they come in.”

Castiel growled low in his throat and pushed Dean backward against the wall of the cave, his forearm pressed across Dean’s chest. “I told you, I can’t...won’t kill these creatures. When I took them into myself and emptied Purgatory of souls, they became part of me. Even now, I still carry a little piece of each of them inside myself, as they carry me with them. Every time you kill one of them, I _feel_ it, Dean!” His eyes roamed over Dean’s face, looking for a glimmer of acknowledgement that the hunter understood. He couldn’t describe the sensation of having a little piece of his soul torn from him with every kill, of the growing emptiness that made the madness he experienced before a welcome retreat. But Dean only struggled weakly against Castiel’s hold.

“Cas—,” Dean swallowed loudly, his Adam’s apple bobbing above where Castiel’s arm pressed against him. He couldn’t push any other words past the lump in his throat. He hated the idea that he was hurting Castiel, but he hunted and killed monsters. It was what he did, what he’d always done, for as long as he could remember.

“I can’t do it, not even to save you.” Castiel’s voice dropped lower. “The last time I was willing to do anything to save you, to save your world, I made... terrible mistakes.” He drew in a shuddering breath as he remembered the lies, the betrayal that led up to him swallowing all of the Purgatory souls in a desperate bid for power—enough power to stop the forces of Heaven that wanted to restart the Apocalypse. “The only moral choice is to chose _not_ to fight. But I won’t watch you be killed.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he finally understood what Castiel was saying. That he would sacrifice himself—let himself be slaughtered without raising his hand to prevent it—before he would watch Dean die.

Castiel’s expression softened. He eased back, releasing Dean. But before he could retreat anymore, Dean reached up to grab Castiel’s head in a firm but gentle grip.

“I don’t... I don’t want..., ” Dean stammered to a stop. He was a hunter, damn it. He wasn’t going to let this place get him. Or Castiel. “Look. Neither of us is getting killed. Not today, not in this place. We’re going to find a way out of here, okay?”

He stepped closer, until he could feel the angel’s rigid posture, unyielding and uncompromising. He slipped his hand to the back of Castiel’s neck and rubbed lightly over the nape of his hair. The other hand wandered down the back of his shoulder and slowly pulled him into an embrace.

“I can’t lose you again, Cas,” he whispered into the angel’s ear.

Dean could feel the moment when Castiel finally relented, when his body melted against Dean’s and his arms slipped around the hunter’s waist.

Castiel laid his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Nor I, you,” he whispered back, barely above a gravelly rumble.

Feeling a stirring low in his gut, Dean turned to bury his nose into the angel’s neck. Despite the disreputable state of their clothing, Castiel’s hair smelled sweet, just like it always did. Dean brushed his lips over the pulse point under his jaw, noting the swift intake of breath it provoked.

Trailing his hand down Castiel’s spine, Dean pushed a thigh between his legs, drawing a moan from the angel. He could feel the hard length of Castiel’s cock twitch within the loose confines of the scrub pants.

“Dean,” Castiel gasped as Dean slipped his other hand inside the trenchcoat and scraped his nail over the tight nub of nipple he found beneath the thin scrub top. “We... there’s danger here...” His hands clutched at Dean’s upper arms, but he wasn’t pushing him away.

Dean murmured, “It’s been so long, Cas. I... I missed you.” He captured Castiel’s mouth before the angel could protest again, slowly teasing it open. If he was going to go the way of Butch and Sundance, he was going to spend one last night with his angel.

Castiel pushed a hand in the middle of Dean’s chest, then shrugged the trenchcoat off his shoulders and spread it on the ground. He lowered himself to his knees on the coat and raised his eyes to look at Dean. When Dean gave a slight nod, he reached up and with a trembling hand, popped the button and slowly pulled down the zipper to the jeans.  He buried his nose into the opening, breathing in Dean’s musky scent. A small patch of Dean’s black briefs was darkened with the moisture leaking from his already hard dick. Dean rocked forward a little on the balls of his feet, anxious to feel the warmth of Castiel’s mouth wrapped around his length.

Oh yeah, he had missed Castiel more than he would ever admit. Anger flared, briefly twisting his heart with the echoes of Castiel’s betrayal, but he pushed it down quickly. No, this was the old Cas come again, the one who had saved Dean when he felt unworthy. Time to let go of all the rest.

Hooking his thumbs into the waistband, Castiel dragged down the briefs to release Dean’s cock, already heavy and purple with need; it bobbed once in the open air before he engulfed it in one go. Dean moaned and tangled his hands in the dark hair as Castiel pulled all the way back to swirl his tongue around the sensitive head.

_Oh shit_ , Dean thought, amazed that Castiel remembered exactly how to make him fall apart.

Castiel worked up and down Dean’s shaft, his chin bumping Dean’s full sack. Castiel’s name spilled over and over again from Dean’s mouth, in a voice wrecked with need.

“Cas,” he hissed, finally pushing Castiel away, “I need to be inside you. Please.”

Castiel pushed himself upright in one fluid, graceful motion, dragging his body across Dean’s.

“God, when did you learn to be such a tease?” Dean growled. He’d taught the angel about foreplay, but Castiel had always been more of apt to dive right into the hot and heavy stuff.

Castiel just tilted his head at an all-too-familiar angle, a smile playing across his lips. He untied the drawstring on the scrub pants and let them fall around his knees. With no other clothing to impede him, his cock sprang free and bumped into Dean’s.

Dean grunted and closed his eyes, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. Castiel pushed Dean’s jacket off his shoulders and tossed it onto a nearby rock, then fisted both hands in Dean’s t-shirt and tugged him down.

“Pushy, too.”

“Shut up, Dean.” Castiel pressed his lips over Dean’s, then slipped his tongue inside when they relaxed and moved against his.

They ended up in a tangle on top of the trenchcoat, with Dean laying between Castiel’s splayed legs, their still covered chests moving against each other as they reached to stroke and touch everywhere at once. Dean slipped a hand between their groins and gathered spit and pre-come on his fingers before rubbing them into the cleft of Castiel’s ass.

The angel’s moan was muffled in a kiss as Dean gently pushed one finger past the tight ring of muscle. With maddeningly slow strokes, Dean worked Castiel’s hole open until it relaxed enough for him to add a second finger, and then a third. By then, Castiel was thrashing his head back and forth, whimpering and groaning.

Dean palmed his cock and pushed inside as he withdrew his fingers. The head breached the ring of muscle with a pop, drawing a gasp from Castiel. He froze, worried that he was hurting Castiel. The angel caught his expression and tsked. “You can’t injure me, Dean. Please move.”

Dean couldn’t help but smirk at the dry, business-like tone that Castiel used, sounding exactly the same way as he did when he was instructing Dean in ways to exorcise demons. He pressed in another inch, then another, luxuriating in the tight heat that squeezed his cock as he buried himself fully inside Castiel.

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the angel’s chest, trying to get himself under enough control that he didn’t start pounding out his need into Castiel’s willing body. But Castiel twitched his hips, rocking and twisting enough on Dean’s cock that the stimulation pushed Dean over the edge. Dean pulled out about half way and slammed back into Castiel, his abdominal muscles bunching and rolling as he set a bruising rhythm. He latched his teeth onto one of Castiel’s pebbled nipples, sucking and teasing it with his tongue until the angel’s moans picked up again.

Castiel raked his fingernails lightly over Dean’s back, then slotted his left hand over the handprint that still scarred Dean’s right arm.

They both threw back their heads with a gasp as a whole new level of sensation washed over them. Dean could suddenly feel the tickle in Castiel’s gut as his pleasure at being fucked ratcheted upward. He experienced the thrill in the middle of Castiel’s chest as his love for Dean made him feel like his heart would burst. And he realized he felt the same thing in his own soul.

Castiel’s eyes went wide as Dean’s climax slammed through them both, the bond that had formed between them blurring all boundaries. Castiel’s dick twitch and spurted between their bodies in answer, painting them both with his come. One of them screamed out, but neither of them could tell for sure whose throat the sound came from, or what language it was.

Dean collapsed onto Castiel, not caring about the sticky warm mess between them. His heart—or maybe it was Castiel’s—bounded in his chest and his blood roared in his ears as he struggled to catch his breath. He could feel the angel’s chest heaving in time beneath him.

Something rustled in the shadows. Dean’s head snapped up even as he scrabbled in the dirt for his knife. Castiel tilted his head back to look toward the opening, sure that the minions of the Alpha Leviathan had finally arrived.

 _God damn it,_ Dean thought, _can’t even have a fucking moment for ourselves._

Dean pushed himself off Castiel, his still softening dick pulling out with a wet plop. He pulled up his pants and hooked the zipper with one hand, then reached out to pull Castiel up to stand next to him. The angel hitched up his own pants, then shouldered in front of Dean, ready to put himself between Dean and danger.

Dean shifted his grip on his knife, holding it low and angled upward. But the noise wasn’t coming from the fissure where they’d entered the cave. They both spun around as a voice emerged from the murky darkness behind him.

“Well, you two wankers going to go another round, or do you want to get blow this joint?”

Dean shook his head as a light flared, revealing a familiar, short figure in a three-piece suit.

“Crowley!” Dean growled, squinting against the suddenly glare. “What the hell?”

“No, not hell, darling. If this were hell, I would have been here a lot sooner. Lucky for you both, Leviathan blood works wonders on that little ‘gateway to Purgatory’ spell.”

“Why are you here?” Castiel demanded.

“I’m clearing my ledger, boys. You did me a solid, getting rid of Dick, and I don’t like owing favors. So I’m going to show you the way out.”

Dean’s forehead furrowed. “Out?”

“Yes. Out. That’s the whole purpose of Purgatory for non-monster souls, you dolt. Go through and get out. Well, I happen to know a shortcut.” He reached up and plucked a non-existent piece of lint from the arm of his suit.

“And where will this shortcut take us?” Castiel asked, suspicion coloring his tone.

“We’ll have to take a detour through hell, but just through the outskirts.” He raised a hand to forestall Dean’s objections as soon as he opened his mouth. “No tricks. Believe me, having either of you in residence would be a lot more trouble than it was worth.” He frowned. “Look, I haven’t got all day. This place makes my skin crawl. Do you want out, yes or no? Or do you need to use a lifeline to get your final answer?”

Dean turned to look at Castiel, searching his eyes for any clues about whether he thought they should trust Crowley or not. The last time Castiel had made a deal with Crowley, he’d been the one to break it, not the new King of Hell. Castiel shrugged. “I don’t think we have much choice, Dean. If we stay here, we will surely perish.”

Dean smirked. As long as Castiel was with him, he wasn’t afraid. No matter what may come, they could get through it together. He reached down and twined his fingers into Castiel’s.

“All right. Let’s go. Lead on, McDuff.”


End file.
